


A Thousand Elevens

by captainbarnes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (well a happy ending in my opinion but I have a feeling that most would not agree), Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bully Dean, Bullying, Emotionally Repressed Dean, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this several months ago but deleted it, Jock Dean, M/M, Nerd Castiel, Nerd Dean, but since then I've gotten a lot of requests to republish it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:54:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainbarnes/pseuds/captainbarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you dating him?” Sammy asked, looking over his shoulder to make sure dad hadn't heard.<br/>“I...no.”<br/>“Do you love him?”<br/>“Yeah.”</p><p>Dean Winchester meets a boy named Castiel who slowly becomes permanently woven into his life through a series of elevens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Elevens

I really, really, really liked my small toy cars.

They were my prized possessions. Out of everyone on the whole block, in the whole school, I had the most toy cars and the best ones at that. I had monster trucks and pickup trucks, corvettes and buses, the old cars that you'd see vrooming around in the 1940s. I would bring them to school in my backpack, and all the other kids in my grade would beg me to let them play with them during recess. When I got home, they were all lined up inside my toy chest in accordance to their awesomeness.

At the very front of the toy chest, at the top of the list was the best one. The only one that I never let _anyone_ else play with.

The Impala. 1967 Chevy Impala, to be specific.

My mom got it for me on my sixth birthday, and I'd cherished it in the five years since. It was just so clearly the _best_. The car of cars, if you even had the nerve to call it a car. It felt like so much more than that.

No, I never let anyone play with my Impala.

 

–

 

“Class, say hello to Castiel Novak. He's moved here all the way from Kansas! How are you liking New York so far?”

He had really big eyes, not the pretty kind either.

They bugged out from his face, like they didn't fit in the sockets. Honestly, they wouldn't have looked so bad if they weren't so blue. It freaked me out how blue they were, a light blue that melded into a bright white around the pupil. As if a snow flurry had been caught in his eyes, they were cold, they were the ice that my dad fished on in the winter.

I steered clear of him, afraid of him for reasons that I really didn't understand.

Because I _knew_ he wasn't a bully or anything, he was the type to _be_ bullied. I knew that he wasn't weird, I knew he wasn't special.

During recess he would stay inside – I'd see him through the classroom window, sitting at his desk, coloring.

He wasn't anything.

He just was.

 

–

 

Looking through the window at him, I saw him moving in a way he never had. The routine of his sitting and slumping rose with his spine as it straightened. He stood from his desk, from his drawing that I couldn't see and didn't wish to see.

“Dean, come play, recess will be over soon!” my friend Benny shouted, and I heard him wholeheartedly with more dedication than my eyes gave to the boy inside the classroom.

Walking away from the window and pulling a toy car from my pocket, I did not care why the boy stood, I did not care what he stood for, I did not care where he would stand in all the days that would pass.

 

–

 

My legs wiggled around as I walked towards Mrs. Burberry's desk. I tried to keep them steady, but the focus I put on them twirled around like the wind and shook them harder.

“Mrs. Burberry....” I hated asking the teacher for these kinds of things. It made me feel like a whiner, like a baby.

But her voice was like blueberry pie with the sweet crumbles on top. “Yes, Dean? Are you having trouble with your math homework?”

“No – well, yes, but that's not my problem,” I mumbled.

I didn't know why it was so hard for me to tell her that I was sick. Hurling wasn't far off on my list of things to do, and I needed to act fast. But the class had taken notice of me now, and embarrassment rested hotly on my cheeks.

And then the chair scraped against the tile floor, and I felt someone come to me.

I didn't turn around, I didn't look, but I knew it would be him.

“Dean's sick.”

I hated his voice. I hated the way he said the words with such truth, as if he'd heard every sniffle that came from me the entire day. I'd probably annoyed him, I'd probably driven him crazy.

“I'll walk him to the nurse,” he instructed the teacher, speaking with the voice of my mother.

There were no awkward sentences spilling from our mouths during the short walk, no fumbling hands, no sideways glances.

And as I went into the nurses office, he looked at me with a warmth that I didn't care to have cast upon me.

My mom picked me up and sent me to lay down in my bed.

Even the air in the house was cool with the crisp chill from outside, and I knew soon snow would fall like the leaves were falling from the trees.

I hadn't driven him crazy.

And I wanted to feel hate.

I rolled the Impala around on my pillow the rest of the afternoon.

 

–

 

Recess was held indoors during the winter and most of us would huddle in the corner and play with my cars, moving them around on the walls and floor, imagining a racetrack.

Those who didn't play with my cars would play with the boardgames that Mrs. Burberry had, or they would sit around and do homework.

He always stayed at his desk though, just like he'd done before. Drawing with his head down.

 

–

 

“I didn't mean to!” Ruby shouted at me, but she was _lying._ I _hated_ Ruby. My mom always said that hate was a strong word, but _I hated Ruby._ I hated her with all the strength I had, all I would ever have. I wanted to push her, I wanted to rip apart her stupid barbies and her stupid everything.

“Dean, I really didn't mean to!”

“Yes, you did!” I growled at her, shoving my cars into my bookbag sharply. “You _always_ try to break my things! You always come over here with your big feet and stomp around, you stupid ugly girl!”

Her eyes glinted and I saw it, I saw the hurt in them glittering like a small diamond in a coalmine.

I hadn't meant to call her ugly, but the anger bubbled from my mouth without thought. It fell from my lips as sewage, and suddenly I was just so tired of the day.

Ruby stomped away, leaving me slumped on the ground with my cars and my bookbag.

He walked over to me, knelt down beside me and gathered the pieces of the smashed car into his hands.

His eyes no longer matched the snow falling outside, blue as they may be.

There were moments during the summertime when you stay inside where the air-conditioner is running, and you get used to the cold. It becomes your new warm. But then you go outside and the heat engulfs you and feels so cozy. It cocoons around you, and you cannot believe that something as shapeless and untouchable as air can give you such feeling.

That was what his eyes were now.

“You're crying,” I spat at him. “Why are _you_ crying?”

The pieces of my crushed car were gently placed into my bookbag.

“Because you are.”

I touched my face.

 

–

 

Sammy looked extra little when he was playing in the snow, all bundled up in thick jackets and coats. He was in preschool and tried to act big, but I knew better, everyone did.

I was pulling him around on our sled when I saw him walking down the sidewalk, trying not to slip on the ice.

“What are you doing here?” The question wasn't supposed to sound so mean, but what did that matter? It did sound mean.

“I live two houses over,” he said smugly, pulling down the scarf that had swirled around his neck and head. His hair seemed so black with all the white, but I knew it was really just a dark brown. Sometimes at school the light would hit it a certain way and you could see reds and yellows and greens light up in it, like Christmas lights on his head.

But I didn't like this guy enough to keep looking. “I didn't invite you.”

Ignoring me, he walked over to Sammy who was bouncing around on the sled, wondering why I stopped moving.

“What's your name?” I hated him.

“Sam.” I hated Sam for talking to him.

“I'm Castiel.”

I stomped over to him.

“I hate your name.” But I didn't.

Castiel stared at me. “It hates you right back.”

He stayed the rest of the day, only because Sammy wanted him to. He drank our hot chocolate and got a hug from my mom. He played with my cars without permission, and said that he didn't like my Impala.

 

–

 

Tulips began to spring up as the rain came. It rained all the time, thunder booming at the best times during the night. Thunder made sleep good for me, but bad for Sammy.

He would stay up crying all night, afraid of all the noise. But noises couldn't hurt him, couldn't touch him. I could hold him, I could protect him, but he still cried.

Sleep went away for awhile.

I would go into his room with my cars and let him vroom them around in the air until his arm would fall, the car would clatter to the ground, and the silence would blend somewhere with the pattering of the rain outside.

I knew that thunder scared a lot of people, including many of my classmates.

Did it scare him as well?

Did this scare Castiel?

I gathered my cars and walked back to my bedroom, making sure Sammy was content before I left.

 

–

 

He was standing up from the desk he'd been drawing at, just as he had so many months before.

Recess was held outside again as the end of the school year came closer and closer, and I found myself looking in on him everyday.

As he stood, I felt a kind of charge lace up my spine and spark around my ears. Because this time Benny wasn't calling me back to play games, and Ruby wasn't smashing my cars, and I could finally see what that stupid jerk was gonna do.

He sauntered over to the cubbyholes where the lunchboxes and bags were tucked away, and for a moment I could have believed that he was going to his own. But, honestly, I knew better.

The way he moved, his eyes fixed ahead, beyond his own bag.

I wasn't upset when he finally came to my bookbag and unzipped the front, pulling out my Impala and a 1920s Rolls Royce. I should've been angry, after all he was playing with _my_ things without permission. _My Impala._

The only car that I never let anyone else play with, not even Sammy.

But I wasn't mad at Castiel.

I didn't hate him for doing it, like I hated him for so many other things.

I walked away from the window and sat down on one of the swings, kicking my feet in the sand beneath them, wondering how far I would have to dig until I met solid ground and could stand on something stable.

Wondering if Castiel made sounds when he rolled the cars around on the floor.

Wondering what the emotion slung around my chest was called.

Later on in life, it would be introduced as pity.

 

–

 

When my mother died, I craved touch.

Nothing around me seemed stable, nothing seemed solid. My whole body floated in this continuous motion blur, and I could no longer trust the things that had once felt real.

During the funeral I stayed away from the casket, instead clinging to the drapes on a nearby window, roughly kneading the fabric between my fingers. I had tried gripping my dad's suit instead, but he pushed me away. It was then that I realized without my mother, my father and I were no longer on the same plane.

He was like smoke in the air, so impossible to grasp, to keep.

My dad laid in the casket next to my mother, he curled into her side and wept. He buried himself with her, and left another man standing in his place.

How did we just go home afterward? How did that work?

Dad took Sammy inside and I stood in the driveway for a few moments, looking at the buttery sunlight. I reached upwards, pretending that I could hold such life in my small hand.

“I'm sorry about your mom.”

My hand fell.

“Go away.”

_Stay._

Turning around, I saw Castiel walking away, back down the sidewalk towards his home. And I almost thought that I could actually let him go.

My legs wiggled around as I ran behind him, closer and closer to such a solid being. I tried to keep them steady, but this was no time for something as comforting as balance.

The inhale, the exhale, the shaking and gasping.

“Cas, wait,” I breathed, reaching out and gripping his shoulder.

My fist cracked into his face the moment he began to turn around. I aimed for his eye, praying that the ice in it would not break.

He stumbled back from me, even though I was reaching out trying to bring him closer.

“ _Why'd you do that?!”_ he shrieked, rubbing his face.

But I couldn't think –

This was all just so –

And I needed –

“Hit me back!”

I needed –

I was shoving him now –

“HIT ME BACK!”

_Dammit hit me back –_

“I NEED TO FEEL!”

_HIT ME BACK –_

“I CAN'T FEEL ANYTHI –”

But he held my hand.

He held it so gently, so softly.

Suddenly, I was oversensitive.

I felt too much, so much. I felt a desire, a longing that I didn't understand. _But I wanted to understand._

My thumb hesitantly stroked over the back of his hand, a thrill swirled around me.

I moved closer to Castiel, studying his face. His eye was swelling up, I'd hit him too hard.

“I'm sorry.” And I was.

He looked up at me through his wet lashes, and I was relieved to see that the ice had not shattered, but melted.

“Come to my house. We'll watch a movie. I'll take care of you.”

I looked back at my home. Sammy wouldn't need me like I needed this invitation. Sammy was young, he didn't understand what was happening. He was in a world of bliss with his stupidity.

Reaching into my suit pocket, making sure my Impala was still there, I nodded and walked with Castiel.

Suddenly the eleventh of June didn't feel so horrible. My mother had been forced to drop me, but Castiel picked me up.

A week later I finally returned to school.

Castiel and I didn't speak.

Two more weeks passed and the fifth grade was over.

 

–

 

Castiel was sitting on my porch one day in July. It was sweltering outside, the heat urging sweat to gush from peoples faces.

“Why are you here?” I asked, leaning against the door frame.

His eyes were hooded and sleepy looking, and I could almost picture lumps of blood hanging underneath them, giving him those purple bags.

“My brother Gabriel left for college last night.”

Cas pushed past me and walked into my house. I scoffed, because that's what you do when somebody barges into your home without invitation, but really I didn't care.

“I miss him,” he called over his shoulder, knowing that I was following him into the kitchen.

I pulled out a pitcher of lemonade and made Cas a glass, pouring one for myself as well.

He spoke so fondly of his brother, his pink lips sculpting the nicest sentences. Back inside my head, I wondered if Sam would ever hold such admiration for me, as Cas did for Gabriel.

When he was finally done speaking, he yawned and took a nap on my couch for two hours.

I threw one of my toy cars at his head to wake him up.

There was a soft silence set between our houses the rest of the summer.

 

–

 

I never brought my cars with me to middle school. Bigger kids went to middle school, and suddenly I was expected to act like one of them. Everyone knew that big kids didn't play with toys, it was an unspoken rule.

No, I never brought my cars to school. Except for the Impala.

When days were especially stressful, I'd ask to go to my locker where it would be sitting on the top shelf. I'd roll it around silently and then return to my class, sated. And no one would know, no one needed to know.

 

–

 

“Hey, Winchester, whatcha got there?” Crowley tried to look over my shoulder, but I slammed my locker closed before he could see.

“N-Nothing,” I muttered, ducking my head down and rushing back to my classroom.

I looked over my shoulder as I fled, flinching as I saw Crowley and his friends looking at my locker, fiddling with the lock, with my reputation.

 

–

 

I hadn't seen Castiel for most of that year. Sometimes I'd be walking down the hallway and for a moment my eyes would catch on something that felt familiar, but those moments passed so quickly.

I knew that he rested at the center of those moments, I knew the person rushing by was him. But I never stopped in my strides, I never looked back at the face that wasn't looking back at me either.

 

–

 

Third period was the best time to go to my locker. For some strange reason, no one ever seemed to leave their classrooms during that time.

The hallway was always empty.

So silent.

So serene.

And I could walk by the windows where the snow was softly falling, and forget that I even needed to go to my locker. To play with a toy, just to feel content. I could close my eyes as I walked, taking comfort in the fact that I knew the ground would always be there to meet the bottoms of my shoes. I could feel my lungs rise and fall, and for a moment I could actually believe that I didn't need to open my locker. I didn't need –

My eyes flew open when I collided with another body that came around the corner of the adjoining hallway. Books fell on the floor with echoing thuds, while papers floated softly to the floor.

The person I'd run into was still standing, and I knew before I even looked up that it would be –

“Castiel.” His name came softly from my mouth, and I blushed deeply at how in awe I sounded.

His eyes weren't quite as big as I remembered, he'd grown into them. Dark brown hair was curling around his ears, mussed and horribly messy.

I couldn't help but marvel at how disheveled he looked, so out of sorts, when I knew beyond knowing that within his head there were probably tabs upon files upon archives all made up in perfect order.

“You were on your way to your locker.” It wasn't a question.

“Yeah.” I didn't bother asking how he knew. Castiel knew too much about me, he knew the behind and the forward, the maybes and the I wishes. I'd stopped trying to understand how a long time ago.

I stood up, gathering the things he'd dropped.

He took them, and walked past me.

“Come to my house tomorrow evening,” he called over his shoulder. “You can bring your car.”

 

–

 

Castiel had definitely grown into his eyes.

I tried not to notice the way he'd changed, but I couldn't help it. We were sitting on his bed across from one another, rolling the Impala back and forth, and I _noticed_. The way his body had stretched out like taffy, long and gracefully sprawled out. He was taller than me now, and that excited me. I felt a longing flare up in my stomach, and I was not afraid.

Looking at Cas, I feared nothing. The moment I looked away, however, I realized how scary that was.

“Don't tell anyone about this,” I mumbled, shoving the Impala towards him forcefully, making sure there was enough force so that the it would be able to roll.

Castiel caught the Impala swiftly. “About me, or the car?” I remembered when I hated his voice. It cracked so nicely now, and I liked it. Why, I didn't know.

“It's not a _car_ , it's an _Impala._ ” I caught the Impala and instantly pushed it back.

Cas leaned forward from his crosslegged position, until he was kneeling over me. He rolled the Impala around on the top of my head, pushing it into my hair until I swatted his hand away. “I don't like the Impala,” he sniffed, trying to look self-centered, but a grin broke out on his face too early and ruined it.

God, and he looked so...man, how did he look? I didn't know, I only knew the feeling he gave me. Suddenly I knew why I had wanted to hate him last year, because whatever this feeling was gave me so little satisfaction.

Hatred was instant and worry free, the moment you deemed hatred upon someone you no longer had to care about them. But, damn, I cared about Cas. I...I could care more. I felt it, the step after caring.

But I wasn't ready to climb.

I'm not explaining this right, am I?

Looking up at Cas, I felt my cheeks go hot. Blushing was cruel, it was so unfair. Emotions were so easy to hide, but the moment a person blushed you could see into them; you could see all the secrets, all the what-if's that were constantly thought about.

But, hey, Cas already saw through me anytime of the goddamn day. Why would blushing make any difference?

“You didn't answer my question.” Cas dropped the Impala onto my lap and slumped back to his end of the bed.

“You can tell whoever you want about me,” I shrugged, picking at the Impala's wheels, looking anywhere but at him.

Cas was silent.

And then –

“Okay.”

 

–

 

I passed him on the way to fifth period.

His hand brushed mine, by accident, I'm sure.

I didn't visit my locker that day.

 

–

 

I didn't cry when Crowley stole my Impala.

I didn't throw up when I opened my locker and saw nothing sitting on the top shelf, only empty space crowding – crammed into every crevice of the metal box.

No, no, not me.

I simply closed the door, scrambled the combination, and returned to class.

I did not cry.

 

–

 

Until I was at his door.

 

–

 

“What am I gonna do?” I groaned, rolling my face into Castiel's pillow.

He sat in his swivel chair, facing me like a therapist would face a whack-job client. I was mildly surprised that he wasn't taking notes and tutting on about _yes, yes, and how does that make you feel?_

“About Crowley?”

Cas knew not to mention the Impala unless I mentioned it first. He was good like that, he knew that the Impala was a minefield, he knew it was a bomb waiting to drop.

“He thinks I'm a sissy, that's why he took the – it. He's gonna make fun of me for it, he's gonna tell everyone.” I felt a sudden surge of humiliation bubble up at my eyes, and I was thankful that I had Cas' pillow. I didn't want him to see me cry again, it was too much.

Cas sighed loudly, sounding completely defeated. Defeated in what battle, I didn't venture to ask. “You...have to show them how tough you are.”

I swallowed heavily, looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

Cas smiled at me, and I almost put my face back in the pillow. He was so...frustrating.

“You have all the potential to rule those guys.”

“Rule them? Ruler of the bullies? Wouldn't that make me a bully?”

Cas shrugged, getting up from his chair and coming to lay down on the bed with me. Curling onto his side, facing me, he was so close that I could see each blue strand that made up the color of his eyes.

“No, just...popular. It'd make you popular.”

Did Cas admire the popular kids? Did he look upon them the way I looked upon him?

“How do I get there, though?”

“Dunno.”

Frowning, I bunched the pillowcase into my hands and began twisting it around.

“You miss it.”

_Yes._

“Yes.”

He cooed and slung an arm over my waist, pulling me closer to him. It felt so intimate, so...adult. And suddenly my dick seemed to join in on all the confusion my head had been feeling. Because I didn't understand this boy. I didn't understand what he was doing to my life, or to me, or to my emotions, or to my body.

I wasn't ready for this.

I wasn't ready for this kind of attraction.

But Cas knew me so well, he knew me from a distance – of course he'd know me even better from this proximity.

He released me and gently pushed me away, rolling me onto my back with ease.

“You should probably get going.”

And I did, I left, feeling so wonderfully confused and frustrated and flustered and warm – so fucking warm.

I stayed in the shower longer that night, determined to regain control over my body. To be the only one who could bring myself such pleasure and heat. I'd never touched myself before – I was nervous. But I knew it would feel good, and I needed something better than the way he made me feel.

But it was his face I saw when I came into my hand.

I said his name.

I'd never known that anything could feel so –

But that wasn't true. I'd already had him smile at me.

Of course I knew.

 

–

 

Crowley and his friends crowded around me in the hallway, knocking my books out of my hands every time I went to pick them back up.

“C'mon, Winnie, get a better grip and they won't fall out of your hands,” he jeered, pushing my books down again.

I fell to my knees trying to gather them for the tenth time, and I felt so drained. Ever since Crowley had stolen the Impala, his taunting had become incessant. Oddly though, he never mentioned it. He never fired the bullet, though he surely had the ammunition. The masochist inside wanted him to just bring it up – to laugh about the toy car that had been sitting inside my locker, and stop with this teasing.

They started booting the books around, sliding them across the floor like hockey pucks.

Eventually I gave up, sitting back on my knees to wait for them to get bored. My dignity was layered on the book covers, smearing onto the dirty floor with each kick back and forth.

Suddenly I knew how I looked. I wasn't a bully or anything, I was the type to _be_ bullied. I really hadn't seen that one coming.

A new foot stopped one of the books they were kicking, while a hand – his hand – swiftly swooped down and grabbed the other book from the ground.

I looked up at Cas.

I remember when I'd seen him playing with my Impala last year, when I'd seen him through the window rolling around the thing he'd later claim to hate. I'd felt such a sad feeling, a swirling ache that had only grown stronger the longer I had looked at him. I hadn't understood the emotion, I hadn't known what it was.

But this was where I learned, looking up and seeing it in Castiel's eyes. This was where I learned of pity. And this was where I felt shame.

I looked down.

He handed me the books.

“Protecting your girlfriend, Cassandra? Didn't know you and Winnie here knew each other.”

I heard Cas huff, and I really didn't wanna call it laughter. “I don't know him.”

My chest caved in.

Oh.

Fuck.

I was gonna hurl.

“Just leave the guy alone, Crowley.”

Cas said he didn't know me. I'm sure he didn't wish to know me, but that wasn't the point, because he _did._ He did know me.

I'd only talked to him a handful of times, but goddammit, Cas _knew me._

God, and – and he –

He said he didn't.

A chuckle.

“Okay, then.”

My head snapped up at the sound of skin being struck. Cas clutched his nose, and I saw dark red gushing from between his fingers.

_Why'd you do that?!_

_Hit me back!_

“C'mon, Cassandra, hit me back, you pussy!”

_I need to feel!_

“You won't though, will you?”

Crowley turned to his friends, laughing. And I should have just left. I should have left Cas to fend for himself, because he didn't really care about me. He felt sorry for me.

I reached out to hit Crowley in the head with my books, but one of his cronies caught me before I could strike. He grabbed me by my arms, pulling them behind my back. I was bared to Crowley, waiting for the blow.

Cas looked at me from behind Crowley, his eyes big like they had been last year.

I raised my leg and kicked Crowley in the balls before he could punch me.

Teachers finally came rushing out, pulling all of us in separate directions, screaming about detentions and suspensions.

But I didn't care. I was on a pedestal, high above the fallen books and bloodied noses. I had _won._

And as I looked down on Castiel, I decided that maybe I could feel sorry for him as well.

I wondered if I could ever look at him and say that I didn't know him. If I could say it and feel no remorse.

Perhaps not.

Oh, but I could try.

 

–

 

I didn't go to Castiel's house the rest of the school year.

I had a point to make.

 

–

 

In the final weeks of summer vacation, you could find me walking by Castiel's house with the hood of my jacket hiding my face. Sometimes I could see him through the front window, sitting on his couch watching television. One day he'd been sitting on his front porch reading, so deep in the words that he hadn't noticed me. I'd gotten to look at him all I wanted that time.

Most days I couldn't see him at all.

Today there was a person that I didn't recognize standing on the porch, holding two boxes and smoking a cigarette.

“Hey, kid, give me a hand with these boxes, will ya?”

No, I would never admit that I had already started power-walking towards him the moment he began talking. No, I would never admit that with every step towards the house, a thrilling pressure pressed harder and harder down onto my chest. No, I would never admit that I felt like getting sick when I saw Castiel's book sitting on the porch swing.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that he was not actually smoking, but chewing on a candy cigarette. “Hey, thanks, kid.” His tone sounded mocking and twisted, but not really in a mean way. Like he couldn't help but sound devious, like he'd eaten one too many warheads and now the sour sugar was embedded in his bones.

He lumped a heavy box into my hands. “The name's Gabe.”

Oh, he was Gabriel, the one Cas adored so much. “I thought you went to college.”

Gabe rolled his eyes and began walking into the house, gesturing for me to follow. “You know my brother, I'm guessing?”

“No, I....” I wasn't there yet, as much as I wanted to be. “Well, yeah, I do.”

“Well, Freckles, for your information I _am_ in college, I just have to move back home for awhile. I chose to leave my dorm.”

“Why?”

Gabe walked into the living room and set down his box and plopped down onto the couch. I followed suit. “Well, technically I got kicked out. Apparently paintball wars are frowned upon at two in the morning. Or anytime of day. The details are a bit hazy, stop talking, you'll make me remember them.”

Ms. Novak walked into the room carrying a glass of orange juice. “Hi, Dean, haven't seen you in awhile. How's your summer been?” She pulled the candy cigarette out of Gabe's mouth and handed him the orange juice.

Ms. Novak reminded me of my mom. Not that it was much of an achievement, because it seemed that every kind woman reminded me of my mom these days.

“Oh, uh, good. Yeah, I've been busy with...stuff.” Fuck, I had to get out of here. “Yeah, just, stuff and, yeah, stuff.” Dear sweet lord, why the hell was I still talking? Tell me, why?

Gabe snorted into his drink. “Wow, articulate.”

Ms. Novak shoved him and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You're getting tall! You're a bit taller than Cassie now – you should think about joining the school's football team.”

“Mom,” Gabe drawled. “Tall does not automatically equal football.”

It was becoming apparent that I wasn't the only one ignoring Gabe. “I – um, well, I dunno. I'm not really the sports type, I –”

Gabe groaned under his breath and stood up. He spun around to me with a saccharinely charismatic smile plastered on his face and began forcefully shaking my hand. “It was nice meeting you. Never go into public speaking.”

Note. I did not like Gabriel.

Ms. Novak ran her fingers through my hair the way a mother would. Her hands were cold and smelled like hairspray. “Cassie's out back playing with his soccer ball. Would you like to stay for lunch?”

I wished that I had my locker to go to. I wished that I had my Impala to roll around. I wished that I had Cas in the good way, where he liked the idea of calling me a friend. I wished –

“Uh, no...I can't. But, uh, I left something in his bedroom the last time I was here. I've been meaning to get it back..?” Please let her see right through me like her son could. Please let her know what I was really asking. Please let her stay silent, and never tell him about this.

She smiled sadly, her eyes flooding with warmth the same way his would. “Sure, honey.”

And I wanted to cry as I walked up to his bedroom. The pressure on my chest had grown and spread, now pressing down on my eyes, balling up in my throat. I wanted. I wanted.

I wanted for someone who I never even talked to, but I wanted, _I wanted._

As I left the house, Ms. Novak stayed out of my way and called a goodbye over her shoulder.

It was hidden under my jacket, pressed to my chest.

I didn't stop running until I was in my home. I could hear my dad yelling about _where have you been_ and _you never say where you're going_. I heard Sammy crying, so I quickly hid it under my pillow and went to hold my brother. I whispered into his hair and sang him his favorite lullabies and I told him I'd protect him forever.

Because I was Sammy's new momma now, and I didn't care if that made me sound like a sissy. I didn't know who the hell I was any other time of the day, but when I held Sammy I was sure of at least one thing. I was sure that whatever crazy directions my life went in, there would always be this constant. There would always be Sammy, and I would always protect him.

That night, late into the early hours when everything was silent, I pulled it out from beneath my pillow and nuzzled it to my face.

It was just a scarf.

That's all it was.

But it smelled like him. And it was soft.

And when I buried my face into it and twirled the fabric through my fingers, I opened my locker and rolled around the Impala.

I wished I could go back to when I had went with Castiel the day of my mom's funeral. I wished I could cancel it all out.

As I cried into the scarf, hot tears scalding my face, I wished I had him.

 

–

 

When Cas had told me that I had the potential to rule over the bullies, to be popular and get out of this slump, I hadn't known how he could possibly think that was an option. But that was when I had been small and chubby with baby fat and childish things.

It was seventh grade, and I was growing now, I could feel my body changing, finally catching up to all the grown up emotions that had been plaguing me. I was taller, I was stronger, my voice was beginning to crack and break. When I walked down the hallway, girls blushed and giggled at me, giving me sultry gazes that made my jeans tighten.

Castiel and I shared a gym class. He had grown during the summer as well, but in different ways than I had. His height had slowed down, his limps were now stretching out at a normal rate, and I finally had a few inches on him. While I had gotten taller and bigger and manlier, Cas seemed to have developed this...grace. He was feminine in the most masculine way, if that made any sense at all.

I cringed whenever someone bumped into him during jogging, because he just seemed so fragile and lithe.

What if he fell down? What if those pretty blue eyes were to shatter?

But Castiel was fine on his own. He was a wonderful athlete, a fantastic soccer player. Our gym teacher was constantly badgering him to join the team, but he always declined. He always returned to his gym locker, ignoring the hateful catcalls and snide comments that the rest of the guys jeeringly threw at him.

If the world was fair, then everyone would be able to see that Cas was the one with the potential. He was the one who should be popular and liked. If only everyone could have seen him the way I saw him.

But I knew what Cas had meant now. I had developed all the looks and makings of a jock, of a prom king, of a pretty boy who throws house parties and the whole school shows up. All I had to do was one thing.

“Mr. Anderson?” I barked, strutting over to my gym teacher. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cas look over at me. “I was wondering when football tryouts are.”

The football players were popular. They were respected. They were the kinds of people that you wanted to know.

Mr. Anderson looked me up and down, sizing me up. “You sure about that, Winchester?”

I could still see him far off in my vision, noticing me completely. “Absolutely.”

A beat.

I could still feel the chill of his eyes.

“They're next Tuesday, after school.”

He turned and began towards his office, leaving me and Cas alone in the locker room.

The _screeeeeeeeech_ of metal squeaking as he opened his locker, the faint rustling as he began to undress.

I didn't look. I never looked. Because if I did, then all the flirty looks from the girls in the hallway would mean nothing to me ever again – I knew that.

Trudging over to my locker, I began peeling off my sweaty shirt, kicking down my gym shorts until they rested at my ankles.

And what if he knew? What if he knew that it was all for him?

What would happen if he were to know that I had become drawn into his orbit, hopelessly revolving. I was devoted, I was trapped.

“Well, look at that. You got there.”

The locker room was chilled, it was icy. And when I turned around, it didn't matter that I was clad only in my boxers, or that Castiel was naked.

It didn't matter that I was – _I was_ –

And it didn't matter that my plan to not caring about Cas was well on its way. It couldn't be much longer now.

“Do, you – uh...w-wanna come over to my house after – after school, maybe?”

Cas kept eye contact with me as he pulled up his apple green boxers. I was aroused, naturally, but all I really wanted to do was press my face to his neck and find the smell that the scarf had lost weeks ago.

I wanted him to talk and make noise while I just listened and _felt._

“Do you really think that's a good idea?”

Oh.

He was still embarrassed of me. Of course he was.

Cas was bullied more and more each day, why would he want me to bring him down even farther?

But it wasn't my fault that a part of him had burrowed itself under my skin, it wasn't my fault that I needed him in these small intervals.

So, why did I feel guilt.

“I wasn't gonna tell anyone.” _I won't tell a soul for you._

He looked even smaller for a moment.

“Okay.”

As I walked to my school bus, my emotions scattered. Blazing like stars, dying all the same.

 

–

 

“Hi, Sam,” Cas breathed, walking through the front door without knocking first, per usual.

Sammy bounded up to him, grinning like a loon – not that it meant anything, Sam smiled at damn near everything.

“Castiel! I haven't seen you in, in –” Sam rubbed his nose violently “– forever.”

Not really seeming to mind the snot that was gushing from Sammy's face, Cas pulled him into a hug.

Society seemed to have these rules that you had to be on a certain level of familiarity in order to hug, to show affection. So, it seemed unnatural, what was happening.

But Sam hadn't been shoved into society yet, he was still being lied to with kind thoughts and yellow crayons.

Getting his fill, Sam pulled away and ran upstairs, making sure to yell that he'd already done his homework _so don't tell me to finish it, Dean!_

I leaned against my kitchen counter, staring at him. He stared back, eyes flicking over my face and shoulders, before he smiled.

I felt the adrenaline release into my blood stream, bubbling it, boiling it.

“You'll need a girlfriend, too.”

I snorted.

“No, I don't think so.”

“Why not?”

 _Because I saw you naked, girls are dead to me._ “Why do you think, Cas?”

Oh, and he stepped closer.

Fuck, my plan was failing before it even started. Why did I invite him over here? God, that was stupid.

This was all stupid. He was stupid – Castiel was stupid.

Goddammit, and I hated him.

I hated him all over again.

I wanted to, I _needed_ to –

“I can't deal with this anymore, Castiel,” I whispered, forcing myself to look at him.

He cocked his head to the side. “Can't deal with...what, Dean?”

“Dammit, I –” _couldn't chicken out now_ “– this, I can't deal with _this_ anymore. Whatever's happening here, I can't handle it anymore, so just tell me what you're trying to do!”

He had moved closer as I had talked, so close that our breath mingled together, whirling between one another.

Lips felt weird against other lips. It wasn't like the movies where they fit perfectly or where a thousand words could be said. There was heat, there was pressure. The more they moved against each other, the more swollen they felt.

I'd never done it before, and I knew I was awkward. I knew I fumbled, I knew that there was too much saliva, and that it probably felt like I was trying to swallow his face. My tongue didn't know where to go, but neither did his.

He pulled away from me, and I wished that it had been the other way around. I wished that I hadn't leaned into this kiss.

“That was awful,” I giggled, doubling over. I could feel happiness and nervousness jumping around in my belly like pop rocks.

“Yeah, it was,” Cas grinned, wiping the spit from his mouth.

We took a few moments, steadying our breathing, tucking our smiles back in place, hiding the thrill, the rush.

“So, what? You wanna date me?”

Because that's what kissing was, right? Sure, we sucked at it. But we could learn, together. We could go to the movies and hold hands, we could go to the school dances and lean in towards each other, we could love –

“No. I don't.”

But we wouldn't.

“I just want to take care of you, Dean. In whatever way you may need. Today it just happened that you needed a kiss.” Cas looked resigned. His smile was fading and his looks were getting almost business-like.

A kiss, a transaction.

My mouth was tingling, buzzing almost.

Cas headed for the door, leaving me.

“You're on your way, Dean,” he called over his shoulder.

As I watched him go, I couldn't help but nod silently in agreement.

I spoke the address of an unnamed road, drove endlessly in a dead car, crashed violently without a collision.

 

–

 

Each strand of flesh that made up each individual muscle was throbbing. Exhaustion more than pain, yes, exhaustion laced around my body, thrumming with more life than I had within me.

“C'mon, Winchester, move it!”

_Football tryouts are today._

“One more lap!”

_You'll do great, really._

“You've got this!”

_I believe in you._

“Yes! Go! Go, go, _go!_ YES!”

And I was the first. I was the first to finish the routine, only by six seconds, but I was the _first._

I laughed, but had to stop because my abs ached sharply.

As I threw up in the parking lot, older guys from the high school team walked by and clapped me on the back.

“Good job out there, Winchester. No pain, no gain.”

That was a disgusting saying.

They walked away, stepping around my vomit.

I went over to Castiel's to watch a movie, then went home and fell asleep with my face wrapped into the scarf.

 

–

 

“You have more friends, huh?” Cas chuckled, laying down next to me on his bed.

The school year was almost over now, time had moved quickly. My first season of football had come and gone, and it had been...okay.

“Yeah, I do,” I whispered, forcing a smile onto my face. Because, I did. I had so many friends now, it was sickening. Because all my new  _friends_ were the ones who walked by me mercilessly when I had been bullied in the hallways, were the ones who had chuckled when nobody wanted to work with me in class, and suddenly they _liked me._

I wasn't so sure.

We would meet on the eleventh of every month now, an unspoken routine. He never spoke to me at school, never even glanced at me. I had stopped trying to understand what it would take for him to want to be seen with me, stopped trying to understand what would make me good enough for him.

My smile was glassy, he saw it.

“What's wrong?”

_I still look at you and know who you are._

“Fuck, I just missed you.”

Cas had grown again, but he still wasn't quite as big as me. But he was close enough.

I could see the doubt swirling in the beautiful blue of his eyes. I could feel the cold winter.

Kissing him was the only way to get warm.

 

–

 

“Ruby asked me out on a date,” I mumbled against Cas' mouth, feeling a surge of jealousy at the slight stubble I felt when my hands brushed his jaw. Facial hair hadn't happened for me yet, and I knew – I just _knew_ – it would drive Cas crazy if I had some.

Well into eighth grade, puberty flared around us. It stunk of body odor and wet dreams, rocked to the tune of baritone voices and swear words.

Our monthly meetings had become blurrier, hazier. I felt high when he looked at me with that _look_ , the one that made me feel like I could take him out and show him off, and _look at my Cas, look at him, hear him, realize his beauty._

Pulling back from me, he frowned and I felt myself copy. “Ruby?” His voice was so goddamn deep now, it vibrated like the notes of a bass guitar.

“Yeah,” I breathed out, rolling on top of him, careful not to jostle the heart messily strapped to my sleeve. “Should I go out with her?”

Cas leaned upwards, trying to kiss me again, but I pulled back and smirked at him.

Falling back, he was engulfed by the heavy pillows, the thickness of them curling around the sides of his face. Fingers coming up to my face, he gently traced over my cheeks. Cas did that, he liked my freckles. I leaned into his touch.

“You should ask out someone like Jo Harvelle or Lisa Braeden.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Why them?” They were pretty girls, but friend types. Not Cas types. Not that Ruby was really either one of those.

“Ruby's a bitch.”

“ _Language,_ Cas, for shame!”

“Oh, shut up, asshole – she is! She stepped on your car, remember?”

When you put tea leaves into a hot cup of water, you'll see the flavor – the essence – slowly being drawn. A deep brown will bleed out and cloud around like drowned smoke, drifting to the bottom of the cup, waiting to be stirred and mixed so that it can overwhelm the water.

“I had forgotten,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss his nose, praying that he could see what this was.

“Well, I didn't.”

My love was stirred, my heart was overwhelmed.

 

–

 

“Way to go, Winchester,” Balthazar spat, shoving past me as he ripped off his helmet.

“Oh, c'mon, cut it out,” Garth called after him. “Don't get your jock strap in a twist!”

We had lost the game, I had fumbled at the last second. A black hole had formed in my gut and was sucking out everything, leaving only dregs of self-loathing.

I just wanted to go over to Castiel's. I was cold, I was tired, I felt like shit, and I didn't care if it wasn't the eleventh.

Garth flashed me a sympathetic look and jogged to the locker room, leaving me on the football field.

Looking up at the bleachers, I could see all the parents leaving, all the siblings following them, all the lovers curling into the darkness towards their steamed cars.

My father didn't come to my football games – I didn't ask him to. I didn't ask him to look upon me with pride, or admiration. I didn't ask for the fairytales.

Sammy wanted to go, but there was no way I was gonna let him sit in on the bleachers alone. He was only in the second grade, the last thing he needed was to get lost in a crowd of potheads and _DEFENSE C'MON DEFENSE!_ No, he was better off at home with dad.

The bleachers finally emptied, the bright lights shut off giving the spotlight away to the moon, enveloping me in the curtains of darkness.

I started towards the parking lot, where the last of the cars were driving away.

“Dean,” he whispered, and I could almost pretend that it was my imagination. But I had memorized every aspect of his voice, over and over. I knew what was real here.

Coming out from under the bleachers, I could see his silhouette accented with slivers of moonlight.

“You came to watch?” I choked out, forgetting about my uniform and myself.

“I always come to watch you.” The tea was pouring over me, sugary and sweet.

As he got closer I could see that his bottom lip was busted open, a dark bruise painted over his jaw. “Crowley? Did he do that?”

Cas grunted, waving his hand nonchalantly. “Doesn't matter –”

“No, it _does_ matter,” I whispered fiercely, grabbing his wrist. “You...you said that if I became popular then I could rule those guys. Well, I _am_ now – I'm popular. I could help –”

“Dean, _leave it._ ”

But how could I? Castiel was bullied all the time now, just like I had been. He needed help, how could I –

“You don't want them to know that we know each other?”

I hated how he smiled. He smiled so brightly, yet so sadly, and I hated him all over again – just for a moment.

“Yes! Yes, exactly.”

It hurt. I was stronger now, I had friends, I had looks, I had the things that people seemed to want. So, why didn't Cas want me?

I brought his wrist to my lips, shushing him when he began to look around for any onlookers. “There isn't anybody here, Cas.”

Pulling him close, I began moving us around. I slow danced to the sound of his breathing, needing no other tune.

 

–

 

On the eleventh of July, Sammy walked in on us making out.

Honestly, worse things could have happened. Superman could have decided – hey, fuck humans and just thrown the earth into the sun. All the insects in the world could have come together to wage war on humanity.

Compared to those, Sammy running around our house screaming really wasn't _that_ big of a deal.

“Fuck!” I shouted, pushing Cas away from me and immediately taking off after Sammy.

“DAAAAAAAAAAAD!”

_FUCK._

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAD, DEAN'S HAVING SEX!”

“Oh my god, Sammy, we were not!”

Sam turned around, bottom lip jutting out. “You weren't?”

But what the fuck did that matter, I could already hear my Dad walking in from the garage.

I had to get Castiel out of there. _Quickly._

“Don't say another damn word,” I snarled at Sammy, turning around to sprint back up the stairs.

Cas was sitting on my bed, lips red and puffy, hair mussed. “You have to –”

“Dean, get your ass down here _now!"_

“ _Shit_ , you have to get out of here, Cas. Go out my window, you can hide on the roof.”

I saw him begin to protest, but I didn't have the time for heroics. Grabbing his t-shirt, I forced him towards the window and began to trudge out of the room.

“Dean! NOW!”

“Dean,” Cas said softly.

I turned around to see him halfway out of my window.

“I'll be fine, Cas.” Fuck, that lie hurt.

My dad's steps were coming up the stairs, thumping.

Thumping.

I could hear Sammy yelling at him to stop – he felt guilty, and I wanted to hold him. I wanted Cas to hold me while I held Sam.

Thumping, thumping, closer, closer, _closer._

My dad slammed into the room, and I felt a movement by my side.

“WHAT THE HELL IS –”

Castiel's hand slid into mine.

 

–

 

And I loved him.

 

–

 

Snow came down heavily the winter of Freshmen year, casting a bluish hue on every object in Castiel's bedroom. We didn't go to my house anymore, for reasons that I don't need to explain. I don't want to explain.

My body was trembling, I was alive only on sensation.

Oh, and it hurt at first. It hurt so deeply, so far _within_ me. I was splitting open, fire was blazing out my insides with every movement.

“Fuck, this isn't as fun as the porn makes it out to be,” I gasped, clenching around his finger.

He was hovering over me, and I had never been more aware of his presence. I had never been more aware that those eyes were staring at me, that his breath was tickling my skin. I could feel his emotions, I could feel them as if they were my own.

“I'll take care of you, Dean,” he whispered, pulling his fingers away from me gently. “Everything I do, I'm taking care of you.”

The cold lube was rubbed into me again, and he flipped us over so that I was on top.

Shaking, I was shaking.

He leaned up and kissed my closed eyelids, my nose, then pulled back when I tried for his lips.

“We don't have to do this, if you're nervous. I want it to be –”

“Perfect, I know.”

As I groaned in pain, I heard him moan in pleasure. Slowly, slowly, I took him in.

Through it all, I didn't need to wonder what I meant to him, if he cared to know me. For a moment, just a small moment that some would probably deem insignificant, I knew he loved me too.

And the pleasure blossomed.

His breath –

God –

It was so hot on my neck –

“Does it feel good?” he panted. “Does it – does it feel –”

I loved the sounds he made.

“Not the greatest – bit of a pain in the ass, really.”

Castiel came, moaning and barking out sharp laughs. “You f-fucking _bastard_.”

Our lips moved together while we giggled, and he touched me –

And I felt –

I felt so –

I said his name when I released, and I knew. I knew him wholeheartedly, I knew him completely, I _knew Castiel Novak with everything that I was_.

He was angry, he was pissed, he was sad, he was depressed, _the rage, can you feel it, the rage?_

Happy, thrilled, ecstatic, _the best smile you can imagine_ –

Terrifyingly calm, serenely psychotic, he was the thinker, the dreamer, he was so –

So –

People seem to have this problem. They get wrapped up in themselves and forget _so easily_ , they forget. That the ones they pass on the streets, the ones they call family, the ones they love – that those people are human too. God, we were all so human, made up of so many emotions that we try to hide.

And I saw his, I _saw_ them.

The breathing, it was so loud.

“I love you, Dean.” He kissed my head. “But you already knew that.”

For the rest of the night I listened to him talk about soccer and star trek, his voice lulling in and out of my head as I teetered on the edge of sleep.

My plan was shattered.

Fuck, I didn't care.

 

–

 

The rest of ninth grade consisted of soccer games – Cas had finally joined the team – and football games, of acting in front of our peers and taking off our costumes in front of each other, of whispered sentiment, and elevens.

“Are you dating him?” Sammy asked, looking over his shoulder to make sure dad hadn't heard.

“I...no.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yeah.”

Sam nodded and went back to solving his math problems.

I scrubbed at the dirty dishes, silently counting down how many days were left until I could see him again.

“How can you love him when you guys aren't even friends?”

 

–

 

“Hey, Winchester,” Crowley called out as I walked to the school bus, October leaves crunching under my feet.

“What do you want, Crowley?” I kept walking, never breaking my stride, not looking back at him. I clutched my books closer to my side.

Footsteps crunched closer and closer to me, and soon he had managed to spin in front of me, a smirk firmly on his face.

Oh, but I was taller than him now, wasn't I?

“Well, I couldn't help but notice that you ride the bus to and from school.”

Good fucking lord. “Yeah, what about it?”

He placed a hand on my chest, halting the ego that dropped to my motionless feet. “My brother is selling his old car, thought you might be interested.”

I had just gotten my driver's license, fuck _yes_ I was interested.

“What's the catch?”

“No catch – he needs the money.”

Somehow, someway, Crowley actually looked sincere. I felt the grip on my books slacken –

“It's a nice car, really. '67 Chevy Impala.”

– and tighten right back up.

 

–

 

“He's mocking me, Cas!”

“Dean, no he isn't –” _Bullshit._

“How can you say that? Of course he is! He's the one who stole it, the _exact toy replica_ , Cas!”

“But you don't even really know if he was the one to take it, Dean.”

“Oh, c'mon, Cas, he took it. Who else would've?”

“Point.”

_I had to breath._

“What do I do?”

“Buy the car – the price is good and it runs well. Get your Impala back.”

_Maybe then I wouldn't have to roll Cas around._

“Yeah...yeah, love you, bye.”

I hung up the house phone, completely unaware that I had just said those words out loud for the first time.

 

–

 

It was nearing Valentine's Day, and I knew it was lame to even ask. I knew he wouldn't go for the chocolates and flowers and cards, and I knew that I wasn't the kind of guy to even buy them. But I was tired of hiding in my letterman jacket.

“C'mon, let me take you on a date – _c'mon!_ ”

Castiel's glare didn't waver. “February the fourteenth is not on February the eleventh.”

“Damn, Cas, you're smarter than I give you credit for.”

“Why do you need to go on a date with me?”

“Because I love you.”

“Not a good enough reason.”

Shit, I was tired of this. “Seriously, Cas, let me take you out. Please. I'll take you down to the city, we'll have dinner at The Plaza.”

This was one of those rare moments where I could see him, or as much as he allowed me to. I could see his eyes go bright, I could see his shoulders puff up from their constant slump. And I wondered just how much he actually hid.

Oh, and he smiled. “The Plaza _is_ pretty swanky, think you could pull that off?”

I could become the leading quarterback, I could become one of the most popular guys in the school, I could overlook parties and girlfriends, I could get the silent treatment from my dad for years.

“Don't ask stupid questions, Cas.”

I could do anything for him.

 

–

 

On February eleventh, right before I left to go to his house, I found the scarf.

It was rolled into a ball and had fallen under my bed at some point.

I did not feel guilt for taking it then, and I did not feel guilt for taking it now.

Smiling, I rushed outside and tucked it away in the Impala. After Valentine's Day, I wouldn't need it anymore.

 

–

 

“Oh, look,” Cas murmured quietly, pointing out of the Impala's window at a one of the many buildings. “That's where Gabriel wants to work.”

This was his first time in the city. When his family had moved to New York so many years ago, they never really bought into the whole tourism, statue of liberty, empire state building spiel. They had stayed on the suburban outskirts, away from the bustle and commotion.

“Gabriel, having a steady job?” I gasped, taking the last exit. Fuck, he looked like he did when I first saw him.

His eyes were impossibly wide, the night lights illuminating the blue. His face was in a content awe, as if he couldn't believe how tall the buildings were, how far they could reach towards the sky.

“He's interning there already for some snooty business people, but he wants to get a raise.”

 

–

 

We looked out of place among all the adults schmoozing over champagne, dressed in their black tie suits and cocktail dresses. We had tried to dress our best, but some dark jeans and button ups were the best we managed.

Honestly though, everyone around us seemed so caught up in their kissing and cupid and true-love-meant-to-be crap, that the only person who seemed to mind was our waiter.

“Five bucks says he spits in our food,” Cas grinned, sipping on his coca-cola.

I guffawed, biting into the freshly baked bread that sat in between us. “This is a nice place.”

Rolling his eyes through all my bullshit, “Okay, five bucks says that he spits in our food and then charges us twenty-five dollars for the added protein.”

The couple seated at the neighboring table had to shush us for laughing so loudly.

 

–

 

“I, uh, I actually have something to confess,” I mumbled between bites of cheesecake. Apparently The Plaza was too regal for apple pie and vanilla ice cream.

“Shoot,” Cas countered, reaching across the table and brushing my hand.

It was the most affection that he had ever shown me in public.

In front of people.

“I, uh, I – sorry.” I was flustered, blushing myself silly. “I took your scarf, about three years ago.”

Cas choked on his crème brûlée. “You – you stole –”

“Yeah, I know, it's silly. It's just, I dunno – I didn't have my toy Impala anymore, and you were embarrassed to be seen with me –”

“ _WHAT?_ ”

The couple shushed him.

“ _What?_ ” he whispered vehemently, leaning across the table as much as he could without standing up.

“I...stole your scarf? Was it a special scarf?”

Cas pushed his dessert away and slumped back into his chair. “You thought I was embarrassed to be seen with you? Are you insane?”

No, I fucking wasn't. “What are you talking about? You _still are_ embarrassed to be seen with me!”

The couple shushed us.

“Why would you think that?”

“Oh, gee, Castiel, I dunno. Maybe it's because you only want to see me once a month, you never even glance at me during school, you told Crowley that you didn't _know me_ when you damn well did! Let's face it, you only care about me when I'm sobbing on your dick!”

The couple shushed –

“Oh, just eat your caviar and pretend this is television,” Cas spat at them.

I began biting into my cheesecake, knowing that if I kept talking then I'd only shout louder.

How dare Castiel act like he didn't know what had been happening the last few years? _How dare he?_

“You listen to me, Dean Winchester –” I rolled my eyes “– everything I've done, I was making sure that you would get what you wanted.”

“Oh, that's bullshit, Cas!” I didn't care if my mouth was full, it was already pretty obvious that class was out the window here. “You've done _nothing_ , but lead me on. I became a stupid jock, I became the quarterback, I got a ton of friends, and _nothing._ Nothing impressed you!”

“You didn't do those things for me, you did them for you! _You_ wanted to be popular, _you_ wanted to be a football player, _you_ wanted to have friends, _you_ wanted to get the bullies to respect you! And _I_ made sure it all happened for you!”

“Please, you think that you're the reason –”

“I know I'm the reason. If I hadn't of taken that Impala then you would have never come to me, you would have never needed to lean on me. If I hadn't of stood up for you in that fight then Crowley would have never started to bully me instead of you. If I had acted like we knew each other, you would have been _done for._ I was....” Cas trailed off. Realizing.

The cheesecake in my mouth had long since curdled.

Because those words had been real.

They couldn't have been.

“Dean, I –”

“Fuck you,” I whispered, pushing myself up from my chair and throwing a hundred dollar bill on the table.

_Not Cas, not him._

I knew he was following me out, so I walked faster. Through the lobby, faster and faster until I was running. My vision was red and watery, my mind clouded.

“I'd like my car, please. The Impala,” I bit out to the valet, slightly amazed that words could actually come out of teeth clenched so tightly.

“Dean!” Cas called out, rushing past the valet. “Dean, please –” He rested a hand on my shoulder.

I spun around and punched him, my knuckles cracking roughly against his cheekbone. Steadying him with my other hand, I pulled him closer and punched him again.

He fell to the ground with the tune of blaring traffic and noisy passersby in the background.

“My _mother_ gave me that Impala! Pictures of her, old home videos, NONE OF THAT STUFF EVEN COMPARED!”

People stopped to stare, I didn't give a shit – let them.

Castiel looked up at me with big eyes, but I was done with that now.

“All I ever wanted was you. That's all I fucking wanted! I didn't give a shit about the bullies, as long as I had you. The football and the friends, the popularity – _was all for you_. You spent so long making me up into what you fucking thought I'd want to be, you didn't even fucking notice!

“You want me to be happy, Cas? You want me to fuck cheerleaders, and party, and score the touchdowns, and rule the school? You fucking watch me, you fucking pretty-boy bitch.”

I bent down close to him. “I'm going to make your life a living hell.”

My car had already arrived.

I threw some money at Cas so he could catch a cab and then left him.

 

–

 

Having sex with women was a whole different ballpark than what I was used to.

First of all, my penis actually went inside something. Not gonna lie, that part was fun. But everything else about it was...unsettling.

When I had sex with Ruby, I had expected it to give me the same warmth, the same comfort. But I missed feeling full and strained around something, I missed feeling places deep within me shiver. I missed the heavy calloused hands, and the deep throaty moans. I missed the short hair and perfume of pure sweat, nothing else.

“Faster, Dean, _harder!"_ Ruby gasped, locking her legs around me. “I thought you said you weren't a virgin.”

As I drove my hips further, made her moan louder, I closed my eyes and imagined.

 

–

 

I was in the eleventh grade when I first bullied him.

Walking into the cafeteria with Crowley at my side, I headed right for his table and flipped his lunch tray and all its contents onto his lap.

“What the fuck, asshat?” Charlie Bradbury yelled, getting up to get Cas some napkins.

“Don't worry, Cassandra, looks like your boyfriend's gonna go clean you up,” I laughed, ruffling his hair harshly, ignoring how soft it was.

He looked up at me, eyes flat and lifeless. “Okay.”

That night I went home and provoked my dad until he slapped me in front of Sammy.

But Sammy didn't cry, or ask me to hold him. He simply went to his bedroom and closed the door.

 

–

 

“Hey, Winchester, get over here!”

Crowley and his goons were crowded around Kevin Tran's locker, drawing dicks all over it.

“Wow, Crowley, you're a regular Picasso.” God, I hated this guy, he was nauseating.

“Join in,” he jeered, tossing me a sharpie.

I tossed it back, its intentions stinging my hands. “No thanks.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and threw the marker at my feet. “Then at least hit Novak's locker.”

He turned back to his phallic masterpiece, and I was forgotten. I strolled down the empty hallways, until I came to Castiel's locker. He was huddled close to it, his eyebrows knit together sharply. Hands moving around inside, probably fiddling with some books.

Catching the sigh that almost left my mouth, I slammed his locker shut, nearly crushing his fingers in the process.

He jumped back and watched quietly as I wrote _fag_ onto the cold metal surface.

I pretended that I was writing it on my forehead.

 

–

 

During my Senior year of high school, Crowley had me sign up for Creative Writing with him. He was short an English credit, and knew he'd be surrounded by nerds and dweebs if he took the class alone.

And it would only figure that he would be in the class. That he would sit directly in front of me, so I had to stare at the curls in his hair all day. I had to see him reach back and scratch his neck, I had to brush his hand when he passed back a worksheet.

I hadn't spoken to him in over a year, but here I was. Falling.

Fucking falling, _again._

“For your first assignment of the year, you will prepare a paper that you will read to the class!” Mr. Shurley bellowed enthusiastically, but I wasn't listening.

“It must be personal –”

Cas had a mole on the back of his neck.

“It must be real.”

 

–

 

A long time ago I had devised a plan to forget Castiel Novak. I had tried to use him as a cane until I could hobble around on my own.

But that had failed miserably, and I tried to use all the things I had gained to _impress_ him, rather than _forget_.

_I would have my chance to forget again._

 

–

 

The Impala was in his hand.

“Winchester, PUNCH HIM!”

Students were surrounding us, cheering and whooping, _fight fight fight –_

But the _Impala_ was in his hand.

“You're a Senior in high school and you play with a toy car between classes? Oh, Cassandra, that's pathetic,” Crowley cooed, kicking Cas in the knees until he folded onto the floor.

It was still in his –

“Why won't you punch him?!”

I could hear teachers in the distance, trying to break through the legion of students so they could end the fight.

“Let's – let's just leave him alone, Crowley....” Cas looked up at me with glassy eyes as I backed away from him, away from my mother, and my emotions all trapped in that tiny front seat.

Crowley gawked at me. “Protecting your girlfriend, Winnie?” Ah, memories. I'd missed that name. “Didn't know that you and Cassandra here knew each other.”

I could hear the blood vwooshing around in my skull –

The beat – the beat –

I couldn't hear my breath until –

“No.” My voice had cracked, it wasn't loud enough. “No...I know him.”

_But I refused to forget Castiel Novak._

At some point Cas had let go of the Impala. It had rolled to my feet.

Teachers were coming, Crowley didn't have enough time to kick my ass. He stomped away, crushing the Impala as he went.

“Get to class!”

“Clear out, get to class!”

Neither of us moved, we stayed staring at the smashed car.

I knelt down and began gathering the pieces. “It's okay, Cas, c'mon, it's okay,” I shushed, shoving the pieces into his bookbag.

“This is all my fault,” he whispered, voice rough and crackly. “God, you're crying. I'm so _sorry_ , Dean.”

Standing up, I offered him a helping hand, but he declined and lifted himself on his own. Looking down, because I had to, I couldn't meet his eyes.

“I'm only crying because you are.”

As he touched his face, I walked to Creative Writing class. He wouldn't be far behind.

 

–

 

“You know, Dean, you _will_ have to read your assignment to the class. The assignment that's due tomorrow.” Mr. Shurley said, sitting on my desk, blocking my view of Cas.

“I know,” I mumbled, trying to glance around him.

Mr. Shurley made a small humming noise, running a hand over his chin. “Do you? Because I haven't seen you write down one word since I gave you the worksheet. That's funny, huh?”

“I just...haven't found anything to write about.”

“It can be anything, you can write about anything you want. It just has to be personal, that's my only rule.”

 _Shitty rule,_ I thought, mesmerized by the way Cas ran his hands through his hair.

He turned his head to see what I was looking at, and then his face broke out in a wild smile.

“Sometimes you'll find that inspiration is directly in front of you –”

Fingers snapped in front of me, crackling me out of my daze, snapping me out of him in fizzles.

“– if you only allow yourself to see it.”

 

–

 

I wanted to be with him. More than anything, I wanted to be with him.

There didn't have to be anymore obstacles or misunderstandings if we didn't want them, there didn't have to be anything stopping us if we didn't want it to. God, and I didn't want it, I didn't want any of it.

I just wanted him.

I just wanted him, I just wanted him, I could say it over and over again – listen to me, I will. The rest of my life, I will, I’ll say it till you hear me through these words. Till my voice vibrates from the ink, till you can hear me laughing because I'm just _so damn happy._

Because I have it all figured out, I'll make this all right.

I will.

Because I love you, Cas, I do.

 

–

 

Dean leaned back onto the headboard of his bed, thumbing through the sloppily written pages, making sure that all the words sounded the way he wanted them to. A part of him wanted to just go to Castiel's house that moment, to read between the lines he'd written and just get to the point. To tell him how much he loved him.

But he would read the story tomorrow in front of all his classmates, he would _finally_ throw his reputation to the floor and be himself. And whoever the hell he was, whatever version of himself he chose to be...

Well, Cas would be at his side. He was sure.

Doubt had no place in his heart that night.

 

–

 

“I can't just skip school, Gabriel.”

“ _C'mon_ , Cassie,” Gabriel groaned, and Castiel could hear him opening another candy – the wrapper rustled loudly over the phone like static. “I'm finally done with that internship! I want you to see my office – it's _awesome!_ ”

Cas sighed loudly, rubbing his eyes. “How can you have an awesome office, you just got the job.”

“I was the best intern.”

“Did you kill all the other ones?”

“Hah, funny, you're skipping school.”

“I have homework due tomorrow – a huge thing for Creative Writing.”

“I'll pick you up at seven-thirty – don't be late.”

The line went dead, and Castiel buried his face into his pillow. He didn't want to miss class, to miss walking by Dean.

Tomorrow would be the eleventh, and it had been all planned out. He was going to tell Dean after class, he was going to tell him how much it all meant.

The past, the future, all of it.

Looking over at his window, knowing Dean was only a few houses over, Castiel decided that it could wait until the twelfth.

His love for Dean would still be there.

 

–

 

“Okay, people, you know the drill, line up for roll call,” Mr. Shurley droned, pulling out his attendance list.

But Dean didn't need to hear all those names that he didn't care about.

Castiel was absent.

Looking down at his story, he frowned. The one person he wanted to read it to, wouldn't hear it.

At least everyone else would.

 

–

 

“It's just an _okay_ office,” Cas lied, eyes sweeping over the spacious room in slight awe. How Gabriel managed to land this job, he had no idea.

Looking over at the clock, he realized that the class had probably started by now.

Would Dean notice that he wasn't there?

Castiel decided that he would.

 

–

 

“Winchester, you're after Crowley.”

 

–

 

Castiel and Gabriel were looking out at the city, feet up on the desk, candy in their mouths.

“Hey...what is that?” Gabriel murmured around a dumdum sucker. He rose slowly, walking in front of his desk and towards the window.

“What's what?” Castiel closed his eyes, not really caring. The sweetness inside his mouth stretched all over.

“Fuck! It's not stopping! Cassie, get –”

 

–

 

“Okay, Dean. Wow us.”

Dean looked down at his paper, then at Castiel's empty desk, and slowly rose to face the class.

“Before you begin, would you like to tell us what your paper is about?” Mr. Shurley grinned, focusing all his interest on him.

Dean gulped loudly, looking over at Cas' desk again. “It's...uh...it's about –”

A shrill ring sounded through the room, cutting off Dean. Ending him.

“Oh...it's my wife. Sorry guys, I should probably take this. She wouldn't call me during school if it wasn't important.”

Dean looked down at his feet, waiting for Mr. Shurley to finish his call. He could feel all of his peers faces looking up at him, and it made him so –

“Oh my god. Oh – but my dad works there! Oh my god, oh –” Mr. Shurley hung up the phone and threw it to his desk, staring at it with wide eyes as if the phone had burnt him.

“Sorry, guys, I –” Tears were rushing down his face. “I have to go, I – something horrible has happened.”

Dean was still standing after he left. He stood until the principal came over the intercom.

“Students and teachers...I have very sad news to announce....”

And he fell to his knees.

 

–

 

“Please, Dean, he would've wanted you to go!” Sam yelled, his voice raw and chapped from crying. He pounded his fists onto Dean's closed door, over and over.

“Go away, Sam!” Dean shouted, throwing his old toy cars at the door, watching them break. “Just go the fuck away!”

“NO!” Sam's voice cracked out sharply. “YOU HAVE TO GO! PLEASE!”

The door was yanked open, and Dean threw Sam against the wall. “Why?! Huh, WHY?! He's not even going to be there, Sam! THEY DIDN'T EVEN FIND HIS BODY, SO WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I GO?!”

Hot tears sprung from his eyes and he felt his legs go lax. Dean didn't even bother with feeling pathetic as he fell against Sam's smaller body, curling into his brother's small arms.

Sam fell with him to the floor, running hands through his hair, and whispering words he didn't hear.

 

–

 

“Because you loved him, Dean.”

But Sam was wrong.

“I still do.”

 

–

 

“I'll protect you, forever, Dean.”

Sam had grown up.

 

–

 

Ms. Novak was in hysterics the entire time. But that was understandable – both of her children were dead. Their father had died a long time ago. She was all alone now.

But Dean promised himself that he wouldn't let that happen. He would take care of her, he would watch over her. They cried on one another as Castiel and Gabriel's prized possessions were buried together – a substitution for the absent bodies. As if those things could make up what they were, what they had been. Their smiles, their laughter.

Dean wanted to lay in the ground next to Castiel's things, he wanted to curl around them and weep. He wanted to bury himself with them, and leave someone else in his place.

 

–

 

But he would be strong. For him.

 

–

 

Eleven Years Later

 

–

 

Orange and red leaves fell gently down onto the Impala's hood, autumn coming earlier than expected.

The cemetery was beautiful this time of year, if you could get past all the headstones and corpses. Dean didn't make a habit of coming here – he'd tried to in the beginning, but it had just been too hard to pretend that looking at their grave would make him feel any better.

But time had cleaned him – it had scrubbed thoroughly at his wounds. They still ached, they still hurt, but they no longer stopped him from smiling with another. From laughing. From loving.

The headstone had gotten a bit worn down since he'd seen it last, the stone was grainy and dark.

“Uh, hey, Cas,” he murmured, pulling the scarf around his neck closer to his face. “Long time, no see, eh? Shit, man, you've aged.” Dean laughed despite the tears that were slowly gathering. “Definitely look into getting some botox.”

He found it all too easy to pretend.

“I know I haven't seen you in awhile...sorry about that. But you have to know that I saw you in everything else. I did, I swear. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that they got the son of a bitch who – who did this to you.” Dean's voice broke, and he took a deep breath. He had to do this, he couldn't walk away. “I'm lying though, that's not all I had to say.”

“I...I had written a paper for Creative Writing, remember that class? I wrote the whole thing in one night, it had to be filled with a ton of mistakes. I would have started on it sooner, but I could never think of anything to write about, and I was always too busy staring at you during class.”

“I was going to read it to you the day of, but stuff got in the way. I spent the last few years thinking that I didn't need to read it to you anymore, because now you knew. Because if you're up there like you deserve to be...then, damn, you must know everything that ever was. So, why would you need to hear my story?”

“But I spent so long assuming that you knew these things about me, Cas. I thought that just because we loved one another, that meant we didn't need to tell each other how we felt. How much we meant to each other. But that was stupid, Cas, that was really, really dumb. Because life and death, it doesn't wait for the words to be said. You just gotta....”

Dean shifted, moving to the ground so that he was sitting crosslegged in front of the grave. Pulling out the old, yellowing papers from his pocket, he unfolded them and found the first paragraph.

If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that Cas was across from him. That they were sitting on the bed and rolling the Impala back and forth.

But deep down Dean knew that Cas was sitting across from him. He was listening.

"Please don't let Gabe laugh at me if I stutter." Dean inhaled. He exhaled. And inhaled once more.

“I really, really, really liked my small toy cars....”

Castiel smiled.

 


End file.
